


To Each Their Honor

by CatelynTsukino



Series: Crossover AUs [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Mulan (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, F/M, No Twincest, Not Targaryen Friendly, POV Brienne of Tarth, Past Jaime Lannister/Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatelynTsukino/pseuds/CatelynTsukino
Summary: In a slightly different Westeros, all Houses are summoned to the war against the Targaryen invasors. As her father's health decays, Brienne joins the war effort in his place, disguised as her brother, and gets trained by none other than the reputed Kingslayer. Will she be able to keep her secret?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Crossover AUs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123070
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	1. Honor to Us All

**Author's Note:**

> There are major changes between canon world and this fic's. Some are already listed in the tags; the rest will make itself known in the text.

"This is madness", Ser Humfrey spats when he finally leaves his room, after spending several days abed in recovery. "I refuse to spend my final years with such an absurd woman by my side. I am sorry for what the gods left you with, Lord Selwyn, and I wish luck in your future endeavors."

He says all that not only to her father's face, but fully aware that Brienne is within hearing reach. He probably does it on purpose, thinking it would faze her. It does not. Brienne has known, for most of her life, that she will never be a proper lady. Not only has her septa told her so time and time again, Ronnet Connington and now Humfrey Wagstaff showed their opinions on her by their words and actions.

 _No bother_ , she tells herself as the old lord bids farewell to her father. _I'll be my own sworn sword, and I won't rely on a husband that will never come, or ever love me._ Resigning herself to a loveless life, she's dedicated her youth to train in multiple weapons—sword, morningstar, bow and arrow—and to learn about holding a household on her own. _If only Galladon was still alive… I could be his sworn shield and his castellan. Now the fate of House Tarth rests on me, an unlovable woman._

"Do not listen to Lord Wagstaff, my starlight", her father tells her over dinner. "If he cannot see you for what you truly are, he is not worthy."

His words are well-intentioned, but fall deaf on her ears. "He does not bother me, Father", she replies, half-sincerely. "Words are wind."

Lord Selwyn could have taken another wife, yes, but seems unable to truly replace his deceased love. He brings to Evenfall a different mistress every year, but never to the chambers he once shared with her mother. There is something sweet about it all, but Brienne kind of resents him for burdening her with the responsibility of Tarth. Not only is she unmarriageable, there is always the risk of her dying and leaving him heirless—and he doesn't have much time to sire new ones now, given his recently developed chest pains.

The second matter comes to light a month after her failed betrothal, when a missive comes from King's Landing, signed by King Robert himself. _The last Targaryens have hatched dragon eggs_ , it says. _We've received consistently reliable reports of sightings of the beasts, and that they plan on taking over Westeros with 'fire and blood'. All noble houses are called to send at least one man, to defend the realm against the dragons. The men from the stormlands must gather in Storm's End, under the command of Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard._

Her breath hitches upon reading that name. Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, is to lead the stormlanders against the Targaryens. _The king must have sent him here because we are the first defense against them, being so close to Essos. He must be hoping that word of his presence will reach his enemies and make them retreat._ The Realm's Savior, as Ser Jaime is regarded, is said to still be as intimidating as he was when he killed the Mad King to stop him from ordering King's Landing to be burned down in wildfire.

She's often dreamed of meeting the man, even though everyone says he's an arrogant ass—though those words are often spoken with admiration. He's rumored to be the best swordsman in all of Westeros, as well as the most handsome of all. She wonders how it'd be to train under his tutelage, and more than once she's fantasized about him knighting her—as if women could ever become knights.

Her father sighs in resignation upon finishing the letter. "I must go", he declares. "We do not have another option."

Her fist falls on the table, startling both of them. "You cannot", she roars. "You can't take the effort—you'll _die_!"

He grimaces in anger. "Do not speak to me like this again", he all but hisses. "I am perfectly capable of f—", a series of coughs interrupts his defense, as if to warn him.

"See?", she retorts. "Let _me_ go in your stead. I've trained—"

"I know of your skills", he says between coughs. "Were you a man, I'd gladly let you go. But the letter explicitly asks for _men_."

"King Robert has certainly not thought of women as possible warriors", she offers. "It is not common, although not unheard of. You've told me yourself about the Dornish and House Mormont—"

"Exactly", he interrupts her. "There are warrior women in Dorne and in the North— _not_ in the stormlands. I cannot, in good conscience, send my daughter as the sole woman in a camp full of potentially dishonorable men. I'll go. I'll speak to Ser Jaime about my health; I am sure he can find me a proper place in the army."

However, as she sneaks out to see him grab House Tarth's ancestral sword and the shield they inherited as Ser Duncan the Tall's descendants, it is clear Lord Selwyn is in no condition. He can barely lift sword and shield at the same time, and he drops the latter to the ground as he places a firm hand on his chest, visibly struck by pain.

No, she won't allow her father to kill himself by leaving his home. Since he won't see reason, she will see it for him.

* * *

In the morning, when Selwyn is awakened by his master-at-arms. "Brienne is nowhere to be found", he tells him. "Your sword and shield are gone too, as well as some arrows, a bow, a set of armor and a morningstar."

His tone indicates he knows what that means, and so does Selwyn. _Warrior, give her strength_ , he prays silently. _Father and Mother, protect her out there. She's my starlight._


	2. Storm's End

Storm's End is half full by the time the ship arrives. She spent the short voyage in her cabin, avoiding potentially familiar faces, but now she has to quickly make her way out to face the music.

Thankfully, her armor has been recently changed for a better fit; it'd be troublesome to come with unfit or mismatched armor. She's cut her hair even shorter than usual and binded her tiny breasts for good measure. _All I must do is disguise my voice_ , she thinks as she looks down at herself, _and I'll be able to pass up as a man._ She tries not to deflate at the realization of how easy it is for her to do so.

With her house sigil on her breastplate, she doesn't need to say much for the soldiers and servants to point her the direction of where Jaime Lannister is amassing the men for the war effort. She finds him fast, but walks to him slowly, appraising the man before her.

He's easily the best-looking man she's ever seen, which fits his reputation. His eyes shine under the sunlight, and even at a distance she can guess their color—bright green. His golden hair also shines, and it's hard to remember he is older than thirty, given how young he seems here and now. The white cloak becomes him, as if he was groomed for the Kingsguard instead of lordship of Casterly Rock.

His eyes dart to her direction when she's close enough. "Good morning", he greets her, sizing her up. "House Tarth, I see. I have to admit, though, I am not familiar with Lord Selwyn's kin. What is your name, lad?"

"Galladon, Ser", she replies, bowing half in respect, half in hopes he won't catch her in the lie. "Galladon of Tarth."

She raises again to meet his gaze. "I was under the impression Galladon of Tarth perished in his home's ocean waters."

She shakes her head. "No, Ser", she insists. "That was my sister."

(Did she just kill herself?)

He blinks and sighs. "Well, my condolences then, my lord. Welcome to the camp. Training will begin in the next sennight, after we gather enough numbers. Feel free to socialize among your future brothers-in-arms."

Since she sees several groups of men hanging around and talking to each other, she concludes _socializing_ is what is expected of her. Of course, if it fails, she can just claim Galladon is shy and socially inept. It is an insult to her brother's memory, but she thinks being killed or raped would be an even greater insult.

The first man she meets is the lord of the castle, Renly Baratheon. A few minutes of conversation leave her at a bit of ease. Lord Renly's mannerisms are odd, _feminine_ if she's brave enough to say it, but nobody questions what is between his legs. She won't have to put an exaggeratedly manly attitude in order to be convincing—people already assume she _is_ a man, simply because she's here among them.

Another advantage of approaching Lord Renly first is that he spares her of the work of introducing her male alias to the rest of the men gathered—he promptly volunteers to do it for her. In the span of a few hours, she meets Eldon Estermont, heir to the island of the same name; Bryce Caron, brother of her first betrothed who died in childhood; Cortnay Penrose, Renly's castellan; Narbert Grandison, second in line to Grandview; Dale and Allard Seaworth, sons of the newest lord Davos, captains of two of the main ships to be used in the war; Donnel Swann, heir to Stonehelm and brother of a white sword, Ser Balon; among some others. To her immense relief, Ronnet is not joining the war effort; his House as a whole isn't.

"Jon Connington is among the dragons' supporters", Lord Renly explains. "We fear Griffin's Roost is among their primary targets, so we're evacuating the place instead. The Conningtons are not too enthusiastic to fight their kin, though, so they asked to help with the war in other ways. Robert conceded because he remembers how Stannis struggled in the rebellion, having to choose between him and Aerys." He shrugs. "Each House deals with traitors in their own way, I suppose. House Mormont seems eager to fight their former lord Jorah, according to Lord Stark's reports."

She has no idea of what he's talking about, so she asks. Lord Renly doesn't know details, only that Jorah Mormont ran away to Essos to evade beheading. "Not that I really blame him", he adds in the end, shrugging.

"A man should be brave enough to face the consequences of his mistakes", she says, almost as if reciting a lesson.

"For that, he must admit he made a mistake to begin with", Baratheon replies. "If he believes to be in the right, though…"

There is no reply she can think of, so she keeps quiet.

At night, she meets Lord Stannis' wife and daughter, who, alongside Renly, play host for the soldier. Lady Selyse is a woman of few words and no smiles—a pleasant surprise for Brienne, who is also lacking in courtly smiles and words—while Lady Shireen seems to be a spirited child that reminds her of Galladon.

Lord Bryce, who is sitting beside her, seems to notice her inner sorrow. "Does the little lady remind you of someone, Lord Galladon?"

She sighs. "My sister", she manages to lie.

He nods, seemingly believing her. "I lost a brother, years ago. Funnily enough, he was betrothed to your sister at the time. Her name was Brienne, wasn't it?" She nods, feeling awkward with talking about herself in such a way. "He died of disease, along with my parents. I understand your sorrow, Galladon. I hope you can learn to live with your pain."

And, although Lord Bryce was referring to the pain of Galladon losing Brienne, she applies it to the pain of Brienne losing Galladon. She thanks him all the same.

* * *

As the days go by, she ends up with a small close group: Lord Renly, the Seaworth brothers and Lord Bryce. They all make her feel welcomed in one way or another, and, although most of them had not seen each other before this assembly, they all get along well.

Then, the training begins. She does her best to conceal her excitement to be trained under the Kingslayer, even though it doesn't really seem necessary—half of the men, especially the young boys, are _not_ hiding it. Allard is all but bouncing at her side.

"Alright, everyone", Ser Jaime announces with a strong voice that echoes through the hill. "This is not a melee, or a joust, or any other kind of situation where losing brings nothing but a wounded pride. This is _war_ , real war, and losses in the battlefield can cost your _lives_. Also, as you must know already, we are dealing with the rebirth of _dragons_. Even our best efforts might fall flat in the face of fire-throwing creatures.

"I'm not saying this to scare you, but we must go into this fight with realistic expectations. Those Targaryens want to re-enact their ancestors' conquest, but they forget that Aegon and his sister-wives stood before a fractured Westeros. Now, they mean to invade a land united thanks to these same ancestors. We won't bend so easily this time around.

"Not all of you will be in the frontlines. You will be tested as if we were in the field, and tested in the use of large weapons, such as scorpions. Some of you will fight in ships, some of you will fight on beaches. It all depends on what your strengths are. So, shall we begin?"


	3. I'll Make a Man Out of You

Their first days consisted of swordsmanship training. Ser Jaime placed them in duos to fight against one another, and challenged the winners himself. In her group, she always bested her companions, only to yield to the Kingslayer. "You are still among the best in this camp, Galladon", he told her after she lost for the third time. "Don't feel down with these losses; very few people can best me."

"Thank you, Ser", she replied as gracefully as she could, panting from the effort.

At one point, he even used her as an example to be followed. "Galladon of Tarth is among our best men here", he shouted, "and he's never even been on tourneys outside his home! What is your excuse, lords are sers? I have yet to yield to any of you!"

Some men began to avoid her and insult her, but Ser Jaime cut them off whenever he was nearby, and so did her friends. "They're envious", Lord Renly reassured her. "Not everyone gets to be publicly praised by the Kingslayer."

A sennight later, Ser Jaime took them to the siege weapons and the scorpions. "Lord Renly and Stannis were kind enough to have that tower cleared", he said, pointing to a lone tower in Storm's End castle. "I want you all to aim at that window on the higher level."

Some complained that the task was too hard in nature, but he shut them off. "You think shooting at a flying dragon will be any easier?"

Brienne doesn't succeed at getting the scorpion shot inside the window, but she came close enough to earn a compliment. Only one man, a hedge knight whose name she did not pay attention to, hit the intended target. Naturally, he became the one excluded by his peers, so Brienne invited him to the table she shared with her companions. "Thank you, my lord", he said humbly.

"It's no trouble, Ser", she replied, and the men nodded. "No one should be shunned out, especially for being competent."

She learned his name was Hyle Hunt, and, although he had been born in the Reach, he was wandering around the stormlands when he heard about the call to war.

Today, Ser Jaime puts them to test on the waters. "This is merely an endurance test", he explains. "Many good men are useless on the sea due to nausea. I'd rather know who they are in advance."

Being an islander, Brienne is fairly used to sea travel, so she passes the test with flying colors. The Seaworth brothers also do, obviously, and so does Lord Renly, but Ser Hyle and Lord Bryce fail spectacularly.

Half of the camp takes a night of rest, and Ser Jaime approaches the remainder of her group to ask to have dinner with them. "You seem like a friendly group", he explains. "I'd like to know you better."

He and Lord Renly are well acquainted from court, so he begins his inquiries with the Seaworth brothers. She knew a few things about them already, but she still learns new stuff. Then, the Kingslayer turns to her. "So, Galladon", he begins, "how is your father in Tarth? Was he the one to send you, or you volunteered?"

"I volunteered, Ser", she replies, which is not a lie. "Father wanted to come, but his health is… not good, so I persuaded him to send me in his stead."

"I see", he hums. "What troubles your father's health?"

"We don't know yet", she replies sincerely, "but we think it's his heart."

He hums again. "You said you lost your sister to an accident", he says, and she tries not to tense up. "Did you have any other family that you lost?"

"Yes. I lost my mother in the birthbed, and the twins born out of it did not last two moons."

"So you are all your father has." She nods. "No wonder he wanted to come. Losing an only heir is no small deal."

She doesn't have a reply to that. Lord Renly begins to question Ser Jaime, probably to give an incentive for them to do the same, and the subject of Brienne's lost family is quickly forgotten.

* * *

After a session of weapons testing, Ser Jaime decides to leave her out of the main field. "You are good with long-lange weapons", he explains. "We have many good enough swordsmen, but not enough good archers, or scorpion shooters, and those may be our best weapon against the dragons."

It separates her from most of her friends, though she already expected it from the Seaworth brothers. Lord Bryce and Ser Hyle are sent to the main field, while Lord Renly joins Allard and Dale on the ships.

They still have several fortnights of training, but now they will focus on an area each, instead of a broad training. Ser Jaime still holds collective training sessions on endurance, though.

After a particularly exhausting session, in which they all had to stand still and silent for hours on end under the sun, she sneaks inside the castle's private baths. The hardest part about keeping her disguise is when she needs to strip herself for whatever reason—change of clothes, bath, relieving herself… Granted, she has her own tent and, when they are close to Storm's End, her own quarters, but it's always a risk.

She enjoys her solitude to relax under the water. Over the last few days, Ser Jaime has been more demanding, likely in an attempt to better them faster. No one knows when the dragons will come for them, and even the best intel might be late when it comes to the east coast. He shouts more frequently, and often paces around.

Not that his behavior lessens him in her eyes. He's still the best swordsman she's ever met—she never bested him while training swordplay—and his strategy skills seem to be good so far. Although he shouts, he never truly mistreats his men, and everyone, from the greenest squire to the most experienced knight, looks up to him.

She's pretty sure she's slightly infatuated with him, but she brushes the thought aside. He doesn't even know she is a woman, and even if he did, who would want an ugly beast like her—

"Who's there?", a familiar voice asks. By instinct, she sits up, and her eyes meet Ser Jaime's.

She doesn't realize that, by sitting up, she reveals the curve of her breasts until his eyes go wide and he stutters, "Gods, you—you're a woman!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving this warning in all my ongoing fics as I update them: starting this Ash Wednesday (17), Lent begins, going up until March 28th, and I won't read or write fanfic in this period. As the Catholic Church allows us to get reprieves every Sunday, on these days I'll show up again in AO3 and my Google Docs. However, I can't guarantee I'll write entire chapters in one day, so I can't guarantee weekly updates. I might not be able to update some stories at all. I'll still read and answer to comments, just not as often I do today.
> 
> I ask you to be patient, as Lent is a very important time of the year for me as a Catholic, and I don't plan on breaking it - my time spent with fanfic is bordering on unhealthy, to be honest, so I really need to do this.
> 
> See you soon!


	4. A Girl Worth Fighting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne deals with Jaime's discovery, and the two of them get closer. The war gets closer as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself, dear reader, because this chapter alone is longer than all the previous ones combined!

"Gods, you—you're a woman!"

Looking down, she sees the upper side of her small breasts are exposed, so she quickly lowers herself back in the water and covers them with her hands. "Please don't tell anyone", she begs. "I—"

"Of course I won't", he cuts her off, though not unkindly. "I won't risk having those men taking… liberties with you." She nods in gratitude. "I was going to take a bath", he explains himself, "but since you are here…"

"You can stay, Ser", she assures. "There are other baths. I'll just ask you to close your eyes when I stand up to dry myself and leave."

"Of course", he replies. "I'd ask you to turn away now—"

"Oh, yes", she replies, blushing as she turns her head to the wall. He hears him taking his clothes off and lowering himself in the bath next to hers. "Are you—will you send me back home?"

"You can turn to me now, my lady", he says instead. When her gaze meets his, he frowns. "Is that what you want? To go home?"

She shakes her head in negative. "I want to fight and defend the realm."

"Then I won't deny you", he replies firmly. "You are too good of a fighter for me to dismiss you merely due to your sex. We just need to find better ways to protect your identity." He sighs. "You have your own tent, right?" She nods. "Move it closer to mine. Right across it."

"How am I supposed to explain it to my—group?" She doesn't dare call them her _friends_. They befriended a _man_ , not her.

"We'll move tomorrow", he explains, "so you'll move your tent anyway. When you make camp, do it near mine. There won't be much to question."

She looks down at her body underwater. "How will that help?"

"If you need to do anything that might endanger your identity", he replies, "you can come to me. I have my own… privy, if you can call it that. You don't need to wander to the woods by yourself every time you feel the need to pee or piss." She hears him scrub himself and decides to keep her eyes down. "And if you just need to be yourself for a moment", he adds, "you can come to me. Nobody goes inside my tent unannounced."

"I…", she doesn't really know what to say. "Thank you", she settles on, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I may—I need to leave. Dry myself and dress up."

She looks at him, and he places the soup back on the floor beside him. Is he blushing? "Of course. I'll—I'll close my eyes. One moment."

When she's sure his eyes are squeezed shut, she stands up from her bath, dries herself as quickly as she can and puts her clothes back on just as hurriedly. "You can open your eyes now", she tells him when she's fully clothed. "I thank you again, Ser Jaime. Not everyone would be so kind."

"If I learned something in my three decades of life, my lady", he replies, "is that, just because _not everyone_ would do something, doesn't mean it isn't the right thing to do." Her mind jumps to the Mad King. Of course he'd say such a thing. "Don't worry, my lady; your secret is safe with me."

She leaves the baths with nothing more than a nod of gratitude.

* * *

When they begin to march, Brienne manages to stay close to Ser Jaime without trouble. None of her companions question her, and they don't seem to contemplate the hypothesis that she made camp near his tent on purpose. Instead, they assume it's a (happy) coincidence. "Stannis wanted me near the Kingslayer", Renly points out. "Said I'd be safer. I don't think it will make much of a difference—that's why I never bothered—but hey, staying close to our general is not a bad thing at all."

As the King's brother, Renly is also allowed access to Ser Jaime's tent, though he rarely goes. Still, Brienne always waits for moments when he isn't nearby to go there. As promised, Ser Jaime always lets her use his 'privy'. "You can use my bath time to take yours", he suggests one day. "I think we can both be trusted to respect each other's modesty, don't you agree?"

"I do", she concedes, "but won't people get suspicious of us?"

He arches his eyebrows at her. "Even if they do", he says, "what would the real harm be? Given all rumors already spread about me, having the men whisper I took one of my soldiers as a lover is not that big of a deal. Perhaps _your_ reputation would be damaged… but you will have to out yourself sooner or later, my lady." She frowns. He sighs. "Unless you die in battle, you'll return to Tarth someday, where your true identity is public knowledge, I assume." She nods. "Sooner or later, word will spread that your father has only a daughter alive, and people will realize the son that fought in the war was actually a woman. It will be too late to do anything, of course. Anyway, they won't accuse you of being… queer."

"But they might accuse me of being your whore", she points out, realizing the fact as she spoke. "Claim that you only kept me around for a good fuck, to warm your bed at night. Any achievement I might get, they'll dismiss it as a privilege you gave me to get into my pants."

His eyes go wide; clearly, he had not considered that. To be fair, she had not thought of it either, not until he talked about her future after the war. "Then we share no baths", he says firmly. "We'll find another way to protect your identity and virtue—although, if we manage to show to the camp that we are friends, people won't question too much if we get close enough to share this kind of thing."

She nods, unsure of what to say in response. Ser Jaime is clearly going out of his way to protect her, when he could have just sent her away. She's thanked him often enough, though, so she decides to change the subject instead. "Ser Jaime, what do you know of the threat we're to fight against? I've only heard rumours so far, and I don't know which ones are true."

He sits on the bed and gestures for her to sit on the chair in front of her. As she obeys, he begins. "You know we are dealing with dragons", he says, not in a questioning tone, but she nods anyway, "with Targaryens riding them. We know for certain that there are three dragons, each one ridden by a different person. We are sure that two of those riders are Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen, Prince Rhaegar's siblings who fled Dragonstone after their mother's death. King Robert was content in leaving them in exile; he isn't too fond of the idea of killing children." His tone implies that he agrees with his king. "Of course, now some people say he should have chased them and killed them, but how could we foresee the return of _dragons_?"

He shakes his head and continues. "Anyway, the third dragon rider is rumored to be Aegon Targaryen, Prince Rhaegar's son. We are not entirely sure of this one… His body was supposedly presented to King Robert after the sack, but his skull was deformed, and his body covered in blood—enough that, in hindsight, it could have been some other baby's body. We won't know until we see him, I guess."

"But who else could he be", she asks, "if only Targaryens have ridden dragons?"

"In _Westeros_ , yes", he agrees, "but it may not be the case in Essos, where half of the people have Valyrian blood. For all we know, he is a Blackfyre descendant of the female line, or he is, I don't know, a lyseni common boy who was lucky enough to bond with a dragon and ride it. Still, too many whispers claim to be Aegon, smuggled out of the Red Keep just before the sack and sent away to Essos for safety, to be groomed until he was ready to conquer his throne back ." He sighs. "Personally, I don't care. What matters is that he is a dragon rider who wants to conquer Westeros by _fire and blood_. I've seen first hand how damaging a mad Targaryen can be on that damned chair. I won't let another come if I can help it."

* * *

Her training with scorpions gets tiresome rather quickly, as she has to catch the ones she shoots at the end of every session. Of course, she understands the need to do it, but it doesn't make the job any easier to bear.

Ser Jaime usually tells the other shooters to follow hers and Ser Hyle's example, praising their abilities. She'd be suspicious of his compliments if the other men—who doesn't know she's a woman—did not agree.

"You praise me too often", she warns him one day, after a month of extra training.

"You are objectively the best shooter in the field", he argues, "just like Ser Hyle. Should I not praise him either?"

"Ser Hyle is a _man_ ", she reminds him. "I am _not_ , and, as you pointed out the other day, Ser, my true identity will be revealed eventually. Don't you think the men will look back at your constant praise and assume it was born out of… other intentions?"

He sighs in clear frustration and runs a hand through his beard—he's been letting it grow since they left Storm's End. "I am the commander of this battlement", he snaps. "I should praise whoever I want to, and admonish whoever I want to. You being a woman has nothing to do with your abilities, and it's not my fault that you're good at most things you do."

She blushes at the new praise. "Thank you, Ser", she whispers. "I should not have complained. I apologize."

His eyes turn slightly soft. "I understand why you did it, my lady", he says in a low voice. "It just isn't fair that your skills may be downplayed for your sex. I…" He sits down on his bed. "My twin sister and I used to switch places sometimes, when we were children. We were so alike, no one could truly tell us apart if it were not for our clothes. I would endure her septa's lessons, while she would spend hours in the yards training. When we got older and began to look too different to keep the ruse up… I could feel her resentment sometimes, you know. That I was allowed to swing a sword while she'd be eventually forced to become, and here I quote her, 'some man's broodmare meant to look pretty and nothing else'. She got better when she married Robert and became Queen, but—I can never forget the hurt in her eyes. Why could she not have both?"

She wishes she knew the answer. Ser Jaime's sister Cersei is considered beauty personified, even before she became Queen. Perhaps, if Brienne had been just as pretty, she would not have been allowed to fight—then again, perhaps she would not have been interested in fighting, had she not been looked down for her looks for so long.

What comes from her mouth is something else entirely. "Is that why… why people claim you two are… lovers? Because she wanted to be you when she was younger?"

He raises his head abruptly at her. _That's it_ , she thinks. _That's what will drive me away from the camp._ "What are you talking about, my lady?"

She hesitates, but gods forbid that she refused her commander an answer. "I've heard, even in Tarth, that Queen Cersei's children are not the King's, but yours. That the Lannister twins are lovers."

His eyes go wide, and he just lets out an "Oh." Then, as in an afterthought, he chuckles. "People love to gossip", he says. "Just because Cersei's children don't look like the king at all doesn't mean they are _mine_. I'm no bloody Targaryen."

She glances away, slightly ashamed of bringing the rumours up. "They call your sister the most beautiful woman of Westeros, and _you_ are known as the most handsome man of the realm", she replies, perhaps in a way to explain herself. "People say it would not be far-fetched to assume you'd turn on each other for a—"

"For a good fuck?" He chuckles again, although it sounds more amused this time. She turns her gaze back to him, and he's grinning. "While I'm flattered they think so highly of my looks, I do have standards, and so does my sister."

It should be enough, but apparently her mouth isn't done. "They also say you stayed in the Kinsguard for her."

He tilts his head back and forth twice. "It makes sense, that one, even without the incest shit—pardon the language, my lady. I did join the Kingsguard for love, and I did stay for the same love, but it wasn't for Cersei." All mirth is gone from his voice, and his next words are said in a whisper. "It was for Elia."

That takes her by surprise. "Princess Elia Martell?" _As if there was any other Elia he could be talking about._

He nods anyway. "We almost got betrothed once", he says wistfully, and she feels like she opened a barely healed wound when he continues to speak. "I was a child of seven, and she and her brother Oberyn went to Casterly Rock. I was quickly infatuated with her. She was kind and funny, and defended Tyrion against Father and Cersei." He looks away from her. "Her mother's plan was to wed each Martell sibling to a Lannister twin, but Father rejected both matches. He had bigger ambitions for us than two siblings who would not inherit Sunspear."

At the mention of his father, his voice briefly turns into a sneer. Are _those_ stories true, then? The ones about how Jaime and Tywin Lannister do not get along?

Oblivious to her thoughts, he continues. "Cersei and Aunt Genna saw how besotted I was, though, and helped me write and send letters to her." His voice turns soft again. "We stayed in touch until she wedded Rhaegar and got sent to King's Landing, under the watchful eyes of Aerys. At that point, Father had taken Cersei with him to court in order to get the prince to fall for her. When he announced I was to wed Lysa Tully, I got desperate." He huffs. "I wanted Rhaegar to fall for my sister and set Elia aside, so I could have a chance with her.

"After the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood, I stopped by King's Landing and met Cersei in secret. She claimed to have the ear of the king, and offered to suggest my name for the Kingsguard so I could be close to Elia and unavailable for marriage. I loved the idea, of course."

That's completely different from the story she's heard all of her life. "Everyone says you were named Kingsguard so Aerys could have a Lannister hostage."

He turns back to her. "Yes, that's what he wanted", he confirms. "But I doubt he'd have such an idea if my sister hadn't spoken of me." He sighs. "Anyway, I didn't realize it until it was too late, but I was still happy to be near Elia, even at such a high cost."

All of this is easy to understand, except... "But why did you stay, then, after she died? Why stay in a place full of bad memories?"

From the corner of her eye, she sees him clenching his fists. "She was killed by Father's men, under _his_ orders", he spats. "He _presented_ the bodies of Aegon—or what we thought to be him—and Rhaenys to Robert. I saw it all. When Robert decided against punishing him, I begged not to be released. He wanted to—it had been Stark's idea, actually. But I couldn't bear to go back to the Rock and look at my father one moment longer."

So the rumours _are_ true this time. "You hate him", she states.

"Of course", he snaps. Then his voice turns gentler, as if he remembers just now she is not Tywin Lannister. "One of the main reasons I wasn't sent to the westerlands was because Robert did not trust me not to kill Father on sight. I never forgave him, and I never will. If it depends on me, I won't ever see him again."

Silence falls for a short while. Then she asks, "What if he dies, then? Will you stay in the Kingsguard?" One of King Robert's first changes, back when he was crowned, was to relieve the Kingsguard from the obligation of serving for life. They now serve in seven-year terms, which are renewed if the member does not wish to leave. So far, only two knights have used it—two men who took the white shortly after the coronation but regretted it.

He nods. "That's my plan so far, yes. I made peace with Elia's death by now, but it doesn't mean I want to marry—especially to rule Casterly Rock. It'd be a reminder of what could have been, and I don't think I can handle it."

Silence falls. He tries to apologize for throwing all of this 'baggage' on her, but she dismisses it. "You've done a lot for me", she replies. "Keeping a secret or two is a small payment."

"I believe I told you before to not thank me for being decent", he counters.

"And I believe I told you before I'd thank you regardless", she points out, "because your notion of 'decency' is far above most men's." A pause. "And perhaps you should know… My name is—"

He raises a hand, interrupting her. "I'd rather not know it, my lady", he says. "If I only know you as Galladon, there won't be a risk of me shouting your name by accident."

She hadn't thought of that. "Oh", she says simply.

He nods, half-amused. "My lady", he says, "I'm afraid you've spent too long here. As much as I appreciate your company, the men might grow suspicious. Make sure the camp is clear before leaving."

He has a point, so she bids him good night before going back to her own tent.

* * *

Another month goes by. She keeps going to Ser Jaime's tent when she needs to use the privy, but they don't talk about Elia Martell again. They usually avoid subjects that could be too private, but he still shares some stories about his life in King's Landing, as well as his family's.

He is very fond of his niece Myrcella and his younger nephew Tommen, but he and Joffrey, the heir price, don't get along very well. "He's a brat", he says simply, "and I honestly fear the possibility of him getting the throne. I have dropped hints to the king for a while, and Lord Arryn seems to agree with me. Hopefully he wrote some will passing the crown to Tommen if he dies in this war."

"Is his firstborn not going to the field?", she asks.

He blinks. "That's a great question", he says, his tone implying he doesn't know the answer. "When I left, it had not been brought up. He's of age, but his skill is shit. I think Robert may want to bring him, but Cersei certainly doesn't, and I'm not sure who would win such a fight. The pair of them are rather stubborn. It's led to a lot of bickering." He says the last part with amusement, as if watching the King and the Queen bicker with each other is a form of entertainment. Perhaps it is.

She learns about his life as well. He and Barristan the Bold are the closest Kingsguard members, given their shared experience with Aerys; he doesn't get along all that well with his other sworn brothers, but he and the Hound (Sandor Clegane) are on good terms, despite Ser Jaime's distaste for his brother.

When he asks, she tells him about Galladon, her mother and her twin sisters, all long gone by now. She doesn't tell him about her failed betrothals, neither of Septa Roelle; both subjects are too hurtful for her.

They also discuss battle strategies. Although dragons are a new threat nobody alive has ever experienced, she trusts Ser Jaime's ideas to bring them down. "They are our main target", he says. "If we kill the dragons, their force is next to none compared to ours. They have the Golden Company, brought by Connington, and the Dothraki, brought by the Targaryen siblings, but who are they in comparison to all armies from Westeros?"

She asks who sure he is that they will manage to kill the dragons, as history has proved they are hard to kill. "Hard, not impossible", he replies. "We've traded information with the Dornishmen—or rather, _I've_ traded in exchange for arranging an 'accident' for the Mountain and Amory Lorch."

His grin is almost maniac, but she frowns. "You do not command the western army. How will you arrange this accident?"

He keeps his grin as he replies, "Ser Barristan commands the West. He's as resentful of my father as I am; he's just better at hiding it. I told him what I promised the Martells, and he promised me he'd do his best. Should he fail to get them killed in camp, I can do it myself when our armies join."

She doesn't have time to think about his bloodthirsty plan, though, for one of the soldiers asks for permission to enter. After making sure Brienne is 'presentable'—as in, looking like Galladon instead of herself—Ser Jaime lets him in. "A raven from Estermont, Ser Jaime", he says.

He unrolls the missive and reads it silently, his face falling slowly. Finally, he raises his eyes to her. "I'm sorry, Galladon", he says. "It seems that both Estermont and Tarth were attacked by the dragons."


End file.
